A Momentary Lapse of Reason
by Alexandria Moon
Summary: Her family is coming apart at the seams, but Atticus Salinger has been denying it, just like she's denied the fact that she is mad about Seamus Finnigan, when everyone but her and the Irishman seem to know it. Christmas is supposed to be a happy time, but when her family finally unravels, Seamus might be the only one who can keep the Ravenclaw from losing her reason.


**Hello lovelies. This was a story I had bouncing around in my head for a couple of days, and I have to say I'm quite proud of the final result! Of course, I don't own any of the J.K.R characters/places; I only own the Salinger family and their home. Reviews are much appreciated, but don't feel obliged! :) **

* * *

"Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go… let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" The song had always been Atticus Salinger's favourite Christmas carol, one that her father would always sing whenever he was decorating the Christmas tree (or had a bit too much firewhisky in him.) Any moment now she was going home via Floo for Christmas, something that she was extremely excited for. She rarely got to see her brother, Stephen, who was away in Ballycastle for a good part of the year. He was the Open Side Beater for the Ballycastle Bats, considered one of the best Beaters of the last century. He had been Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team during his tenure at Hogwarts, and when she graduated Atticus wanted to join him on the team.

Unlike her brother (who would play Quidditch until the day a Bludger knocked his head off, as far as he was concerned), Atticus was a Chaser, pulled onto the team when Stephen was Captain. Most people cried "favouritism," but Atticus had proved to them that she had talent as a Chaser.

She was going to miss her friends over the break, particularly Seamus and Luna. Luna had promised that she and her father, Xenophilius Lovegood, would come over for Christmas pudding.

"Oy, Atty!"

Speaking of Seamus…

"Atty?" Atticus raised an eyebrow. "_Atty_?"

Seamus smiled his crooked Irish grin as he came up and gave her a hug. Atticus felt her heartbeat quicken slightly. She cursed her stupid female hormones – they had been bothering her ever since the Yule Ball... two years ago. Not like she could forget that.

_"Oy, Atticus!" _

_ Atticus looked up from her Charms book, her tongue poking out between her lips and her brows furrowed. Seamus always made fun of her for her "concentration face," but surprisingly when he dashed over to the Ravenclaw table he didn't say a word._

_ The Great Hall was dead silent. Everyone was staring. Curse Seamus for being so loud! Atticus knew that whatever was about to happen, she was probably going to turn red and run from the hall. Her friend Lucy McCaffrey kicked her under the table and waggled her eyebrows. Lucy had this long-running theory that Seamus and Atticus were just __**meant**__ to be. Atticus kicked her friend twice as hard in the shin, but when Roger Davies groaned, Atticus immediately felt awful. She didn't mean to kick __**him**__! Lucy grinned wolfishly. Oh why couldn't people start talking again?_

_ "What __**is**__ it Seamus?" Atticus asked, trying her best to sound annoyed._

_ Seamus looked slightly crestfallen, making Atticus feel bad once more. A few mutters broke out around the hall. Not quite the type of noise she was looking for. The brash Irishman didn't let it sway him for long._

_ "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go to the ball with me?"_

_ More mutters. Atticus felt her cheeks turning red. _

_ "Uh…" she felt a sharp kick on her shin, presumably from Lucy. "Sure?" It came out as more of a question. Another kick. "I mean, yeah!" Now she sounded too enthusiastic. It didn't matter. A look of relief washed over Seamus' face, and he broke out in a grin. His mates in Gryffindor started to cheer and clap. She was thankful that Roger kept the Ravenclaws from doing the same thing – she made a mental note to buy him a bunch of Chocolate Frogs on her next trip into Hogsmeade. _

_ "Awesome!" __**Awesome?**__ Not quite what she was expecting, but it didn't matter. She didn't have to worry about going solo, and at least it was with someone she knew and cared about. Atticus and Seamus… on a date… for some reason that sounded a lot nicer than she'd been expecting. She felt her cheeks turn pink as Seamus triumphantly walked back to the Gryffindor table. Damn her hormones! This was Seamus we were talking about, not Oliver Wood or Draco Malfoy (who, though an ass, was a bit of a heartthrob), __**Seamus!**_

_Oh dear Merlin…_

"…and have a good Christmas!" Seamus' voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, yeah… you too Finnigan," Atticus said, totally unaware of whatever he had just told her.

"You weren't listening to a single word I said, were you?" Seamus smiled.

"I heard 'have a good Christmas,'" Atticus mumbled.

"Ah well, that's all that mattered. I'll write you!" Seamus swiftly kissed her on the cheek before dashing off.

Atticus stood there in shock. She still felt his lips on her cheek.

"'Oh _Lucy_ there's _nothing_ going on between me and Seamus, I swear!' Rubbish!" Lucy said as she walked towards Atticus, presumably from the common room. "What the hell was that, then?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Luce."

Lucy watched Atticus with a smirk as the brunette dashed back towards Ravenclaw Tower. Oh there was definitely something going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

* * *

Atticus coughed violently as she was spit out of the fireplace and onto the kitchen rug, trailing black soot everywhere. Floo travel sucked.

"Could you make any more of a mess?" someone drawled from the kitchen chair. Atticus wiped the soot from her eyes and saw a young man sitting at the table with a lazy grin on his face.

"Stephen!" Atticus squealed as she made a mad dash for her brother.

"Oh god no, you're covered in s-aaargh!" Stephen's protests were cut short as Atticus tackled him in his chair, knocking them both over. A loud crash echoed through the kitchen as Stephen tried to push his sooty sister off of him. Footsteps hurried towards the kitchen, and a thin blonde woman burst into the room, her green eyes wide in shock.

"Atticus Dalí Salinger!" the woman shouted in a Scottish brogue. "You're making a mess of my kitchen!"

Atticus grinned in the woman's direction. "Good to see you too, mum." Stephen flipped his sister off of him, causing a cloud of ash to swirl in the air around her.

Charlotte Salinger rolled her eyes. "_Scourgify_. Wait til your father gets home and…"

"…and what, dear?" Joseph Salinger asked as he walked through the kitchen door. "What in the world have our children done now?"

"Made an absolute mess of themselves, and my kitchen!"

"Hey!" Stephen exclaimed. "I had nothing to do with this!"

"You had abso-"

"How was work, dad?" Stephen said loudly over his mother. "Throw anyone in Azkaban today?"

"No, not today," Salinger replied. He looked over at his daughter and smiled. "And how is my little Ravenclaw?"

"I was in Ravenclaw too!" Stephen protested, but Salinger ignored him.

"I'm doing all right. Fair warning, the Lovegoods are coming over for Christmas pudding."

Charlotte Salinger turned slightly pink. She had always found Xenophilius Lovegood to be attractive, more attractive than her own husband, who had never been the most handsome man. Stephen knew that look, and his eyes darkened. It was the same look that Atticus got on her face whenever Oliver Wood came up in casual conversation – a lustful look. Luckily, Joseph Salinger did not notice as he hugged his daughter.

"That's fine! Nice family, the Lovegoods," Salinger was oblivious to the look on his wife's face. "And what about the Finnigans? Are they coming for dinner too?"

Atticus blushed. The cursed hormones were back at work. "I don't know Dad."

"Any homework for the winter break?" Salinger asked as he poured himself a glass of firewhisky. "Go get started on it – you'll be finished early and not have to worry about anything!"

Atticus went up to her room, but her mind wasn't on her Charms work, or the properties of bezoars, or on advanced defence spells. Her thoughts had turned back to the Yule Ball.

_It was the middle of the ball, and some brilliant moron in the Weird Sisters decided to go from hard rock to a slow ballad. This meant she would have to slow dance, with Seamus. Her hormones were racing again, and Seamus gently placed one hand on her waist and put his other hand in hers._

_ "Are you enjoyin' yourself?" Seamus asked softly as they swayed back and forth. His breath smelled of firewhisky, but Atticus decided to overlook this small fact. _

_ "Surprisingly, yes," Atticus grumbled._

_ "Surprisingly?" Seamus sounded hurt. "Did you think I was going to be a bad date?"_

_ "No!" That's not what she had meant. "No, I just don't like dancing."_

_ "Oh," Seamus sniggered. "Well neither do I. Come on, let's get out of here."_

_ For a moment, Atticus' mind flashed to all the things they could do if they 'got out of here,' but quickly pushed them to the back of her mind. This was __**Seamus**__, she had to remember that! Trusting him, she let him take her hand and drag her out of the room. Lucy caught her eye and winked, but Atticus simply flipped her off. _

_ Seamus led her through the winding halls of Hogwarts, and Atticus nearly fell over when she found herself standing in the deserted Gryffindor common room. _

_ "Seamus, what the hell are we…" he cut her off by dragging her up a flight of stairs and to the fourth-year boys dormitory. Oh no no no no no no no. This was __**not**__ supposed to be happening. She remembered the smell of firewhisky, and her stomach dropped. "Seamus, what the hell are we doing?"_

_ "Shut up, for just a minute, please," Seamus replied._

_ "Wh-" she didn't get a chance to ask her question. Seamus sealed his lips over hers and cupped the back of her neck with his hand. He didn't taste of firewhisky, but it never once crossed Atticus' mind that Seamus might be sober. She stood stock-still for a few moments before warily returning the kiss._

_ When she woke up in the morning, she slipped away in her dress robes back to Ravenclaw Tower. Luckily, Lucy wasn't there… she never would have heard the end of it._

She was fourteen. That was her excuse. She was fourteen and curious and didn't know what she was doing. Seamus was (probably) drunk. Either way, the incident was never brought up again.

"Sweet Merlin what did the poor desk ever do to you?"

Atticus almost fell out of her chair. Stephen was leaning against her bed, staring at the deep grooves she had made in the desk with a pocket knife. She hadn't even noticed that she'd pulled out the knife, a gift from Stephen for her twelfth birthday.

"What do _you_ want?" Atticus grumbled. She adored her brother, but she really didn't want to see anyone.

"Well Mum called you about six times for dinner, and that was about thirty minutes ago. You didn't respond, so I came up here to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted." Atticus looked at the clock. Had she really been sitting at her desk for two and a half hours? Memories didn't take that long to replay! Atticus groaned and stabbed the knife into the desk. Stephen raised a single eyebrow. "What's on your mind, sister dear?" He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Atticus expectantly.

"I think I'm in love!" Atticus blurted out. The words vomited out of her throat before she could stop them. Stephen's other eyebrow joined the first – now he just looked bemused.

"Well I can certainly say I didn't see that coming," Stephen chuckled. "Just please tell me it's not that git, Malfoy." Atticus wadded up a piece of parchment and chucked it at her brother. Stephen blinked as the parchment hit him in the nose. "Unnecessary violence, don't you think? Now spill, sister dear. Is it the little leprechaun that's caught your heart? Your little Irish rose?" Stephen grinned wickedly as Atticus blushed. Stephen, like all big brothers, was an expert at getting under his sister's skin. "Oh Merlin this is _too_ easy. When did this happen?" Atticus mumbled something in response. "Sorry? Didn't quite catch that." Atticus refused to repeat what she'd said. She had a feeling Stephen would be using Seamus' head as a Bludger if he knew what had happened on the night of the Yule Ball. "Okay, fine, fine, _don't_ tell me then!"

Atticus giggled. "Merlin, you're annoying, you know that?"

Stephen gave his sister a cheeky grin. "I'm good at it. Now spill or I'll slip Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice!" Atticus' eyes widened. That was one thing she didn't doubt. Stephen's best subjects had been Potions and Transfiguration.

"Spill what?" She was stalling, and Stephen knew it. He waved his wand and as her bedroom door opened, a small vial gently floated through the door. The liquid inside was clear. Atticus gulped. "Has anyone ever told you you'd make a good Auror?"

Stephen's grin widened. "Are you going to tell me, or not?"

"Only if you shut the bloody door." Stephen complied. "Well, it started when he asked me to the Yule Ball in fourth year."

"Oh I remember that," Stephen mused. "Mum wouldn't shut up about the robes she bought you for that thing. It must have filled up two pages of every bloody letter she sent me."

Atticus narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to let me tell the story, or not?"

"Sorry," Stephen smiled. "Do I need to make a cup of tea? Is this a long story?"

"Long story short, we shagged and now, two years later, I still get flushed whenever he touches me."

The playful grin disappeared off of Stephen's face. "You _what?_ My sister, a Scot, lost her virginity to an Irishman?"

Atticus could have chucked another piece of parchment at him. "_That's_ what bothers you? Not 'oh my god my younger sister isn't a virgin,' but 'oh my god she lost it to an Irishman?' We're only _half_-Scottish anyway!"

"Yeah, but why couldn't it have been Oliver Wood? He's a Scotsman!"

Atticus gave her brother a look. Oliver had looked up to Stephen as a Quidditch player, going so far as to figure out Stephen's address. They became penpals, and eventually very good friends. Stephen had been trying to drop hints for his sister to date Oliver – then the Scotsman would _really_ be part of the Salinger family. He didn't mind Seamus, but still… he was an Irishman. Oliver thought Atticus was beautiful, and she enjoyed his company, but he wasn't Seamus.

"Fine, fine," Stephen continued. "So you shagged Seamus two years ago and now you think you're in love with him?" Atticus nodded. "Want my advice?" Another nod. "Shag someone else. You'll know if you really like him, or if it's just because he's the first and only shag you've ever had."

"I tried that," Atticus admitted. "Your friend."

"Which one? I have a lot of friends," Stephen drawled.

"Oliver Wood."

Stephen fell off of the bed and landed flat on his ass. He hadn't expected that. "You shagged a Scotsman _after_ an Irishman?"

"Oh would you get off of that!" Atticus screeched. She was about to continue berating her older brother when their mother apparated into the room with a loud _pop_.

"If you two are done shouting like children, then come downstairs and eat your dinner!" Charlotte reprimanded her two children. Atticus' stomach fell. Just how much had her mother heard? "And Stephen Salinger, if you don't leave your sister alone about the difference between Irishmen and Scotsmen, I'll jinx you into next week!" Apparently everything.

Bloody hell.

* * *

Sleep evaded Atticus all night. When Stephen wandered downstairs at seven in the morning, fresh snow covered their property, and Atticus was leaning against the kitchen sink with a cup of coffee, looking out at the snow. Wolverhampton was not too far off from where they lived – you could see it out the window.

"Morning sunshine," Stephen greeted his sister. "You feeling any better?"

"I didn't sleep, so no," Atticus responded wearily.

Stephen ruffled her hair. "Maybe going back to Hoggy Warts isn't the best plan then, eh?"

"Why's that?"

"He's confusing the hell out of you, right? Why put yourself up to that?"

Atticus chuckled hollowly. "I'm not going to go for Oliver, so drop it."

"Fine," Stephen laughed. "But seriously. If by the end of the school year this thing isn't solved, you're coming to live with me in Ballycastle for the summer."

"But that's in Ireland, and he's Irish, and… why do you play for Ballycastle if it's an Irish team? You're so loony about being Scottish, then why d-"

"Shut it, you," Stephen waved the question away. "Seamus doesn't live in Ballycastle. He lives near Dublin, so calm yourself. Besides, I'll drag you along to the Bats' practice if you want." Stephen was quick to wave his wand so that Atticus' cup wouldn't shatter on the floor. That was for naught, as it shattered, spilling coffee all over the two of them, when she jumped on him, tackling him to the ground in a hug. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Of course it's a…" Atticus trailed off. In order for her to go to Ballycastle, Seamus would have to have no feelings for her, and not even a summer full of practices with the Ballycastle Bats could heal that wound. "…maybe."

"Maybe?" Stephen shoved his sister off before standing, extending his hand to help her up as well. He saw the hurt look on his sister's face and frowned. Maybe she really did love Seamus. He sighed internally. His big brother instincts were kicking in. He'd have to find a way to get Seamus and his little sister together before the Christmas holidays, or he'd have to deal with an entire summer of a mopey sister. He loved Atticus to death. That's why he wanted to see her happy.

He was such a good brother.

Stephen left Atticus to the snow and her coffee and scurried up the stairs to his bedroom. His mother always complained about how messy he was. His flat in Cork was incredibly clean, and he never messed up his summer flat in Ballycastle. He just left his room messy at his parents' because he could get away with it. He dug through his desk for some ink and parchment and a quill.

It was a short letter, but it got his point across at any rate. Seamus needed to get his ass to Wolverhampton and come visit Atticus before she went crazy. Okay, so it was a little exaggerated, but if Seamus thought something was wrong with Atticus he would come running.

Stephen remembered puppy love. He hadn't been in a relationship since Hogwarts, and that was seven years ago. He was perfectly happy being a bachelor. Sex wasn't hard to come by being an internationally famous Quidditch star. He liked his space.

He found Thor resting on one of Atticus' bedposts. The Spotted Owl looked at him questioningly when he came in. Thor had been a present from Stephen when Atticus' old owl had died. The Spotted Owl liked him well enough, but Thor was still Atticus', and no one else's. With an almost paternal tenderness, Stephen tied the letter to Thor's leg.

"Take this to Seamus Finnigan's house, alright?"

The owl cocked its head, and Stephen fed it an Owl Treat from Atticus' desk. After carefully examining the treat, Thor snapped it up and took off into the sky. Stephen grinned. He loved that owl.

* * *

"What the devil are _you_ doing here?" Atticus asked as she pulled open the door. Seamus Finnigan was standing on the front step, shivering from the cold. She knew that that was no way to greet her best friend, but she hadn't expected him to show up to Wolverhampton at eleven at night on the night before Christmas Eve. The wind was beating against the windows, and the snow was falling furiously. Mrs. Finnigan must have finally lost her mind if she let Seamus come here in the cold!

"Oh I just like standing in the ice of course. You want to let me in?" Seamus' teeth chattered as he spoke and Atticus felt her heart melt.

"Yeah, sure, come on in!" The kitchen was warm and smelled like vanilla. Atticus yanked Seamus' bag out of his hands and led him to the table. "Do you want tea, or a coffee, or something?"

"Tea's fine," Seamus replied as he blew warm air into his hands.

"I'm sorry we don't have any extra bedrooms, but you can sleep in my bed," Atticus said nonchalantly. When a wicked grin flashed across Seamus' chapped lips, Atticus added, "and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Take all the fun out of everything, don't you?" Seamus teased. She was thankful that he couldn't see her face, as she felt it heating up. Damnit, she _never_ used to blush like this!

"So why are you here again?"

"Your brother wrote me." _Of course he did, the little twit. _"Said you were going mad without me. Said I needed to get my arse out of Ireland and come to England. That was about it," Seamus replied as the tea kettle began to whistle.

_Of course he did, the little twit_.

When Seamus was done with his tea, Atticus led him to her room. She swore she saw a pair of shining eyes in the crack of her brother's door, but when her hand reached out to yank open the door, Stephen pulled it shut. She saw a flash of a sardonic grin and resisted the urge to knock down the door.

"Here it is," she pushed open her own door. "Just let me get some sheets for myself and then I'll be out of here." By the time she had finished that sentence, Seamus' shirt had been discarded to the floor and Atticus' next words were locked in her throat. She hadn't seen Seamus without a shirt on since that night four years ago. He had been a boy. Now he looked much more like a man – his physique was slim, but he was definitely cut.

"You were saying?" Seamus asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"N-nothing." Seamus shrugged and tumbled into the soft bed. He sighed with contentment and snuggled deep into the mattress as he kicked off his shoes. "Good night, Seamus," Atticus mumbled.

"Hey!" Seamus exclaimed. "This is your bed, I'm not going to kick you out of it."

Atticus just knew her face turned scarlet. "But you're sleeping in there and…"

"Atticus, we're two mature sixteen year olds. We're almost adults. I think we can handle sleeping in the same bed. Afraid I've got cooties?" Seamus teased. Atticus tripped over her words but Seamus just grinned. "I'm only teasing you. Come on." He patted the spot next to him, and for a moment Atticus saw the sensual look in his eyes. Mature sixteen year old indeed. She gulped.

"I… uh, don't think my parents would be too happy about finding us in the same bed," Atticus replied sharply, much more so than she had intended. Seamus drew back, obviously wounded, but her annoyance didn't faze him for long.

"Ah come off it, your dad loves me, and your ma wouldn't care," he grinned. "Come on. That couch is going to be freezing anyway." The look on his face reminded Atticus of a lost puppy dog, and she rolled her eyes before dropping the sheets to the floor. Though she would never admit it, she was scared as hell.

"You're going to sleep in that?" Seamus asked. She looked down. Jeans and a sweater. Not really pyjama material. "You'll be a bit hot, won't you?"

"Oh… yeah," Atticus bit her lower lip. Seamus reached to the floor and lobbed his long black shirt at her. He was short for a guy, but she was tiny, so the shirt was likely to swallow her up. Atticus let the shirt fall to her feet before she pulled her own shirt over her head swiftly. She was soon covered by Seamus' long black shirt, but her hands were trembling so badly that she could not unbuckle her belt or undo the button of her jeans.

"Here… let me," Seamus said softly, pulling her to him. He brushed her small hands aside and unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned her jeans, looking away respectfully as her pants fell to the floor. He pressed a gentle kiss against her stomach, more than just a friendly kiss in Atticus' opinion. She didn't know if she would be able to stop shaking. A hawk was perched on the ledge outside – Stephen's Animagus form. When he saw where this would probably be going he took off into the night. As much as he wanted his sister to be happy, he had no interest in seeing her get shagged.

Atticus climbed into her bed next to her best friend, and the Irishman wrapped his arm around her waist. All of his brash sarcasm had disappeared. If this was all it equated to, Atticus thought that she would be alright. His hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. Wordlessly, Atticus locked the door. The last thing she needed was someone walking in. It would look very compromising for her and Seamus both.

She thought that everything was going to be okay. Everything would be normal. This thought was dashed from her mind as she felt Seamus' fingers trailing up one of her legs. Atticus' breath caught in her throat. His hand reached the top of her leg and slid up her shirt. _Oh sweet Merlin…_ but he stopped with his hand on her stomach. She felt a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good night Atticus."

* * *

The next morning, Atticus and Seamus were drawn downstairs by the smell of cooking bacon (though Atticus had the sense to put on her own clothes beforehand). Stephen and Salinger were sitting at the table, arguing about the outcome of the next European Cup. Salinger had been a supporter of the Montrose Magpies ever since he moved to Britain, one of the Bats' biggest rivals. Even the fact that his son played for the Bats didn't make Salinger's loyalties change.

"Ah good morning Atticus, Seamus. When did you get in Mr. Finnigan?" Salinger asked as he noticed the two teens walking down the stairs. He flashed Seamus a smile – he wouldn't mind having the Irishman for a son-in-law.

"Last night, 'round eleven."

"Did you sleep well?" Salinger asked. Both Seamus and Atticus detected the real question that Salinger was asking.

"Aye sir. I slept on the floor. Atticus was kind enough to make me up a pallet on the ground," Seamus said with a straight face. Salinger gave him another smile, but when Charlotte pulled Seamus into a hug, Salinger winked at his daughter. The look on his face was enough – Stephen had told him everything.

"Good Lord don't your parents feed you at all?" Charlotte asked the sandy-haired Irishman. "What do you want? Bangers and mash? Toast? Coffee?"

"Uh… sure, all of it," Seamus replied as he pulled out Atticus' chair for her. After Atticus sat down, Seamus took the seat beside her. "How are the Bats doing, Stephen?"

"Oh just fine, I suppose. Dad wants the Magpies to win though," Stephen shot a friendly glare at his father.

"Aye, I'm pullin' for the Devils," Seamus grinned.

"Traitor," Atticus mumbled. She felt Seamus' fingers trailing up her thigh, causing her to hold her breath. The fingers disappeared when Charlotte bustled over with a plate of food and a coffee, placing them in front of Seamus.

"Are the Lovegoods still coming tomorrow?" Charlotte asked.

"As far as I know, yes, why?" Atticus asked. Seamus looked across the table to notice that while Stephen was still involved in the argument, his mind wasn't really there. He kept his eyes on his mother, a murderous look present within them.

"Oh, just needing a headcount," Charlotte replied, though there was a heat rising up her neck.

Atticus shrugged and stole Seamus' coffee, though Stephen kept that same look in his eyes. An old Christmas song was playing out of the radio, but there was not much Christmas cheer in the house. The tension was slowly thickening, and that didn't escape anyone. After they ate, Seamus and Atticus made their excuses to go to Diagon Alley and do some last minute Christmas shopping.

The streets of Diagon Alley were packed with last-minute Christmas shoppers like themselves. The ground was covered in snow, and people were happily going back and forth. For a moment, it seemed like nothing had changed – like Voldemort was still gone, as if nothing bad had happened. That was the magical thing about Christmas, and weddings, and family. Sometimes they could make you forget the horrors of the world.

"What's up with your mam and your brother?" Seamus asked as they popped into Eeylop's Owl Emporium. Atticus needed to get more Owl Treats for Thor, plus Eeylop always kept it really warm inside the shop. There were all sorts of owls watching them with large eyes.

"I don't know," Atticus replied as she browsed the selection of treats. "But anytime the Lovegood family comes up, Stephen gets this sort of… odd look in his eyes. I wonder if maybe he's in love with Luna. But he gets this angry look if her father comes up, and it's only when my mum is around. She went to school with Xenophilius, actually." Atticus picked up a box of Eeylop's Own. "These should do it. I wonder if maybe she and Xenophilius had a thing before she met my dad. Xenophilius didn't get married to Luna's mother until he was nineteen or twenty, and dad didn't marry mum til she was around twenty-one. I don't know. It's an interesting thought." She turned over the two Sickles to Eeylop and put the treats in her bag.

"Hmm," Seamus mused. "Are you sure it's a good idea to have the Lovegoods over then?"

"Well I'm not going to retract the offer now," Atticus said indignantly.

"I wasn't expecting you to," Seamus defended himself. "Come on now, let's not fight. Wanna pop in to the Leaky Cauldron for fish and chips before we go?"

Atticus shrugged as she tucked her parcels under her arm. "Sure. I'm hungry."

They had a nice lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, chatting about Christmas, but carefully avoiding the topic of the Lovegood family. Never in his years of knowing Luna had Seamus ever expected anything about her or her family to have a bad connotation.

When they floo'ed back to Wolverhampton, they were tempted to jump back into the fireplace. Salinger was nowhere to be seen, but Stephen and Charlotte were having a row in the kitchen.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about Stephen Salinger!"

"Oh really, I don't, mum? Tell me then, why the hell should I believe you when every single time you hear his bloody name it's like you're back in school again."

"I don't!"

"Oh really? Tell me mum, did you shag him in school? Are you still shagging him?"

"The hell is going on here?" Atticus shouted, interrupting what was sure to be a juicy argument. Stephen and Charlotte whirled around to see the two sixth-years standing on the soot-soaked rug.

"Mum was just trying to pull some _bullshit_ excuse out of her arse to explain why she's so bloody excited about Xenophilius Lovegood! She slept with him in school!"

"And what the bloody hell does that have to do with _anything_?" Charlotte screamed.

Stephen rounded on her. "Mum, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you weren't planning to shag him." Charlotte said nothing. "Answer me! And don't try to lie. The Veritaserum won't let you."

"You _drugged_ our mum?" Atticus screeched.

"What choice did I have? She would never tell the truth unless she was forced!" Stephen looked at his sister. "She's a _liar_."

"Fine!" Charlotte shouted. "Fine! Yes! I was planning on trying to shag him!"

"What the hell is wrong with Dad?" Stephen yelled. Atticus could feel Seamus squirming beside her, clearly uncomfortable with the fiasco unfolding before him. Without thinking, she reached down and took his hand to soothe him.

"Nothing is wrong with your father, he's just…"

"Just what? Not smart enough, not handsome enough, what?"

"…it was an accident, me marrying your father," Charlotte said as she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "My mum was begging me to get married – she didn't want me in the house anymore. Your father was infatuated with me. When he heard that I would have to leave home, he proposed. He was smart, he had money, he was exotic. I married your father out of convenience, not love. I was in love with Xenophilius Lovegood, not your father. Xenophilius was my best friend at Hogwarts. I was an idiot not to pursue him, but he was in love with someone else."

"Luna's mother," Atticus interrupted softly.

"Yes, Luna's mother," Charlotte nodded.

Stephen was shaking with anger. His knuckles had started to turn white as he clutched tighter and tighter onto his wand. Seamus was almost certain that he was about to

_Snap_

…break his wand.

Next thing anyone knew, Stephen was in his mother's face, his hands on the arms of the chair on either side of Charlotte. "You listen to me, and you listen to me right now. I don't like what you've done, and I don't like what you're saying, but you listen. I don't care if you don't love him. Joseph Salinger is in love with you, and you _will not_ hurt him. And let me make this perfectly clear. You have one week to straighten up your act, or mark my words, you will get out of here. Do you understand me?"

Charlotte remained stock still.

"_Do you understand me?_"

"Yes," it came out as a whisper.

Stephen disapparated with a _pop_, leaving Charlotte, Atticus, and Seamus frozen in the kitchen. Joseph Salinger remained outside in the fields, oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Do you think…"

"He'll be back," Atticus said softly. "He always comes back."

* * *

But Stephen did not come back. The snowstorm grew worse in the night, and Seamus and the three remaining members of the Salinger family gathered around the fireplace with glasses of firewhisky, the radio playing a happy carol. Joseph Salinger did not ask where Stephen had disappeared to. If Stephen was angry, Stephen left. Everyone knew that.

"Happy Christmas all," Salinger smiled as the clock struck midnight.

"Happy Christmas dad," Atticus returned. Seamus echoed a similar sentiment, but Charlotte Salinger said nothing, only stared into the fire and sipped at her firewhisky.

Salinger's smile faltered at his wife's silence, but he quickly affixed it back to his mouth. "Well, I'm off to bed. Long day tomorrow, what with the Lovegoods coming and all that."

Seamus and Atticus followed Salinger's example, leaving the quiet Charlotte by the fireplace. When she heard two doors close upstairs, Charlotte Salinger finished off her firewhisky and vanished, leaving the fire burning in the grate.

* * *

"I'll sleep on a pallet," Seamus offered as he stripped off his button-down shirt. He was left again in only his jeans, causing a fire to erupt in Atticus' lower abdomen.

What in the world was causing her body to do this? She didn't like Seamus… she couldn't. When she did not reply, Seamus began unfolding some of the extra sheets to form a pallet on the ground. Atticus stripped down to her lingerie while his eyes were averted, ignoring the burning embarrassment of having anyone see her body. She hated the way she looked – she wasn't perfect, and for someone like Seamus… she wanted to look perfect. Magic could do it, but she had no desire to change. It showed a true mark of a man's character if he could take in an imperfect woman and still see her as beautiful. And whether or not Atticus knew it, Seamus did see her as beautiful.

Seamus looked up and was stunned by what he saw. When his eyes began drifting down Atticus' body, she crossed her arms in front of her… why the hell did she ever think this was a good idea?

"What are you doing?" Seamus croaked; his mouth had gone dry.

He reached out to take her arms. He looked into her eyes, and when she did not protest, he gently pulled her arms away. He didn't want her to shield herself. He pulled her closer to him, placing his hands on her bare skin. She felt a crackle of electricity shoot through her stomach as she wordlessly locked the door, before dropping her wand to the floor and pressing her lips to Seamus'.

They stood there for a moment, locked in that simple kiss. Atticus broke it for only a moment. "Merry Christmas," she breathed against his lips, before kissing him again, snaking her arms around his neck.

Seamus walked forward, pushing her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed and caused her to fall down onto the mattress, taking the Irishman with her. She pulled away from his kisses and wiggled her way up so that her body was fully laid across the bed. Seamus kneeled above her and took in the sight before him – his best friend lying on the bed beneath him, her hair slightly mussed and her lips red and swollen, her breath coming in short stitches. Never in a million years had he expected this to be happening. There was the Yule Ball, but that was nothing. This wasn't some stupid teenage experiment… this was real. Suddenly his pants seemed too small.

Seamus covered her body with his, but his lips did not go to hers. He latched himself onto the crook of her neck, gently sucking and nibbling down her neck and collarbone. Atticus gasped. Oliver had been a fantastic lover, but there had been something missing. Seamus gave her more pleasure in his wanton ministrations than Oliver had given her in an entire night of sex. There was something different. Something so clichéd and different, but it was there.

She cared.

She was brought out of her thoughts when Seamus stopped what he was doing. He had kissed his way down her breastbone and stopped at the front clasp of her bra. He looked up at her, lust shining in his eyes, but he kept himself under control. He was asking her permission. Once he did this, she knew there was no going back. She gave him the tiniest of nods, and his fingers deftly unlatched the hook.

Her breasts were exposed to the open air, causing her nipples to pebble. She gasped as his warm mouth enveloped her left breast, his tongue gently teasing the bud. She felt sorely disappointed when his mouth disappeared, but he didn't disappoint her – the other breast was covered with his mouth as he began rolling her abandoned nipple between his fingers.

He left her other breast exposed to the cold air once more and began kissing his way past her breasts and down her stomach, stopping to dip his tongue into her navel, causing her back to arch off of the bed. His fingers began running up her legs. He tickled the backside of her knee, causing her to giggle. The laugh was twisted into a gasp as he ran his fingers over her cloth-covered sex. He stopped for a moment, and she wondered if maybe he wanted her to pleasure him in return. She let her hand drop down to his crotch, but Seamus gently took her hand.

"Atticus… I don't expect you to do anythin' for me in return," Seamus said softly. "I wanna make this about you. This is all for you." He placed a tender kiss on her stomach before hooking his fingers in the band of her panties, rolling them down her legs, gingerly placing kisses on her legs the whole way down, avoiding her sex. He slipped her panties of off her legs and tossed them to the ground before pulling himself back up to cover her naked body with his partially-clothed one.

"You, Seamus Finnigan," Atticus gasped, "are wearing far too many clothes."

"Aye, I'd say that I am," the Irishman chuckled in return.

Atticus let her hands go to the button of his jeans. He gave her a look, but she looked him straight in the eye. "Please."

Seamus consented, and Atticus unbuttoned his jeans before slipping her hand into her boxer-briefs, wrapping her fingers around him. Seamus gasped. Just as Atticus remembered, Seamus was just an average-sized man. All of her friends always went on about how this man's cock was big and that one's, but Seamus was just an average guy, and Atticus decided that she much preferred this to the large cock of Oliver Wood. Lucy would call her crazy, but Atticus decided that _who _she was with mattered more to her than the 'giftedness' of the person.

Seamus took her small hand again and pulled it away before kicking off his jeans and pulling off his boxer-briefs. His member was swollen, the head purple and leaking clear fluid. He bit his tongue as the cold air hit him, but Atticus felt fire in her sex as Seamus' cock pressed up against her thigh. She whimpered and tried to rub her legs together to create friction. Seamus grinned wickedly before forcing her legs apart and plunging two of his fingers inside her. Atticus let out a moan, and Seamus' eyes widened. He pulled away and rolled off of the bed, causing Atticus to sit up. What had she done wrong?

Nothing. Seamus cast a Silencing Charm, and Atticus was grateful that at least one of them had some amount of common sense. She expected him to return to what he was doing, but he surprised her.

"Bend your legs," Seamus ordered her.

She did so, placing her feet firmly on the mattress. Seamus spread her legs a little farther and leaned over, placing his hands on her thighs to hold her still. Atticus' eyes went wide as she realized what he was going to do. When his tongue pressed over her clit, Atticus nearly screamed. She felt his grin against her sex and he repeated his previous action. A small whimper escaped her lips, and he did it again, before just flicking it with his tongue. He switched back and forth between pressure and gentle flicks until his tongue entered her.

Then, Atticus really did scream. He moved his tongue around, pressing against the roof of her vaginal wall and gently stroking there. Atticus' eyes rolled into the back of her head, and Seamus felt a bit of pride. His cock was straining, and he removed his tongue, trailing kisses all the way up her body and finally pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. Without warning, he buried himself inside her to the hilt. Atticus screamed again in a mixture of pleasure and pain. She hadn't been expecting that.

Seamus froze at the undertones of pain. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…"

Atticus pressed her lips to his. Seamus took it as a sign that she wanted him to keep moving, so he did. He moved in and out of her, eventually ungluing himself from her lips to focus his oral attentions on her nipples. The combined pleasure of Seamus' cock and tongue was too much, and Atticus felt an orgasm ripple through her, pulling another scream from her lips. She was sure her throat would be raw by morning. It felt better than anything Oliver Wood had ever done to her, and though Seamus seemed experienced, Wood was far more so. She pushed the thoughts of the Keeper out of her mind – he didn't matter right now.

Seamus continued to thrust in and out of her, more rapidly than before. He wanted to be where she was, at his peak. As he was brought to orgasm, Atticus was as well. He sealed his lips over hers in a passionate kiss as they rode out the waves of euphoria. When he had emptied himself into her, Seamus nearly collapsed on top of his best friend.

"I love you Seamus Finnigan," she gasped, but he didn't seem to hear.

"I love you Atticus Salinger," he breathed, but she didn't seem to hear.

After he pulled out and they both had some time to recover, they lay beneath the sheets, tangled up in each other. Atticus' head was pressed against Seamus' chest, and he was gently trailing his fingers up and down her spine.

What was going to happen now? That was what Atticus wanted to know. Was this just going to be a one-off thing? Were they going to be regular fuck buddies, with no emotion other than being best friends? Did this mean _anything_ to him at all? Atticus wanted to push him away and scream at him. She wanted to know the truth. But she didn't care enough right now to leave his arms. She figured she should savour the moment while it lasted – it might be the only time she ever got.

* * *

When Seamus woke up the sun was just barely rising, but Atticus was already awake, cleaning up the mess on the floor. Seamus grinned – she was wearing his button-down, and damn did she look sexy in it (if he did say so himself). His grin flickered for a moment. He sincerely hoped that this wasn't the only morning he woke up with her in his bed (well, in his clothes for now). He wanted to wake up like this every morning, even if there was no sex involved. Hell, he would gladly give up sex if _that_ was the condition to have her wake up in his bed every morning.

Merlin, he was in love with her.

"Oh… you're awake," Atticus said softly, drawing him out of his reverie. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept just fine. You?" Seamus asked as he stretched.

"I slept fine," she made to unbutton the shirt. "I suppose you'll be wanting this back…"

"No, it's fine!" Seamus said a bit too quickly. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

Atticus gave him a funny look, but moved her hands away from the buttons. "What's on your mind, Seamus?"

Seamus fiddled with the edge of the sheets, twisting them up as he spoke. "Well… I was just thinkin'… this isn't going to the only morning I get to wake up with you, is it?"

"What do you mean?" Atticus frowned, though inside her heart was racing.

"Well, I mean… I like this. Us. You and me waking up together in the morning. I mean… you left me, after the Ball," Seamus' voice cracked, "and now you've left my bed again. Am I just here for sex and friendship? Please be honest Atticus. I don't mind if that's all you want… but… I don't know if I could agree to that…" he sounded on the verge of tears. "Because that's not all _I_ want."

"You know about…"

"Of course I know what happened at the Yule Ball!" Seamus practically shouted. Atticus jumped. The Irishman forced his voice to be calm. "I wasn't drunk, Atticus. I had a sip of firewhisky, that was it. I only wanted you to _think_ I was drunk."

"Why?" Atticus asked in an unnaturally high voice.

"Because I was testin' the waters," Seamus replied. "To see if you really gave a damn about me as more than a friend. I know you shagged Wood. Why'd you do it?"

Atticus had tears in her eyes. She hadn't expected Seamus to find out. "Because I wanted to see if…"

"If what? The reason you thought you were in love with me was because you shagged me?"

The only way he could have known that was through Stephen. Atticus had a right mind to wring her brother's neck, if she knew where he was. "Well I was proven wrong wasn't I?" the words flew out before Atticus could stop them, and her hands flew up to her mouth. Seamus' jaw dropped open.

The two were saved any further embarrassment by the sound of Salinger calling them from downstairs. The teens quickly dressed and went down to find Atticus' father drinking from the bottle of firewhisky. Christmas dinner was being cooked, but Charlotte Salinger was nowhere in sight.

"Where's mum?" Atticus asked softly. Salinger looked at his daughter and saw the bruises on her neck, but he did not comment on her and Seamus' awkwardness.

"Your mother is gone," Salinger rasped. "I knew it was only a matter of time."

"_What_?"

"She thought she could fool me, but I wasn't stupid." Salinger looked haggard, like he hadn't slept. A prickly five-o-clock shadow had grown across his face. "She never loved me. I was over the moon about her, but she never felt the same. I always knew it was Xenophilius Lovegood she really cared about. I hoped that being married to her for years could have changed that. But it didn't."

"Are…"

"I went there this morning and explained to Luna and Xenophilius that your mother was gone. I didn't say how or why, just that she was gone. They said they understood. They won't be coming. I was thinking you two would want to go to the Weasleys. You don't need to be spending your Christmas with a drunk old man like me."

"No sir," Seamus surprised the Salingers. "We're not going to let you spend Christmas alone. Sir, you're practically family to me." He gave Salinger a smile. "Come on. I'll fix up a pot of tea, and we'll open presents."

Atticus felt her heart flutter, and for a moment, a vision crossed her eyes of her and Seamus sitting together by a fireplace with their own children, growing old together. She shook her head to make the thought go away, but as Seamus busied himself looking for the kettle, Salinger pulled his daughter aside.

"What is it, Daddy?" Atticus asked.

"Atticus Dalí Salinger. You are my pride and joy. I have only ever wanted to see you happy," Salinger began. He placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "Do not let that boy walk away from you. You catch him, and you hold on to him. I expect to be walking you down the aisle with him waiting at the end of it. I understand that the world is dark and cruel right now, and it might seem to you like nothing good can happen, but love is good… and young lovers can make this world a little brighter. It reminds us that we're all still human. Please, Atticus. Don't let him go."

Atticus looked over her father's shoulder to see Seamus putting on the kettle and whistling 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' with a smile on his face. She looked back at her father. "I don't plan on it."

A wide smile broke out across Salinger's face, and for one shining moment he looked more handsome than Atticus had ever seen him. "That's my girl." He pulled his daughter into a hug, but all three people jumped as Stephen apparated into the room with a loud _bang_.

"Happy Christmas!" he announced with a grin. That grin quickly faded as he looked around the room. "Where's mum?"

"Your mother is gone," Salinger replied. "I don't know where she is."

A somber look entered Stephen's eyes. "I might." And with a _pop_ he disapparated again.

* * *

Christmas was a surprisingly happy affair, and sometime during the day Seamus' hand found Atticus', and he didn't let go. Stephen returned an hour later with the news that Charlotte wasn't coming back. She had taken his words to heart. But Salinger didn't let the terrible news destroy the Christmas spirit. Perhaps with the ending of the poisonous relationship, his heart could begin to heal. After all, time heals all wounds, and when there is a war going on and you might not have much time left, one shouldn't waste one's soul away on mourning the past.

When Seamus excused himself to take a shower and Salinger had gone to bed, Stephen approached Atticus, who was sitting by the fire with a cup of coffee in her hand. He ruffled his little sister's hair and sat down next to her, looking at the crackling fire. After a moment, it was Stephen who broke the silence.

"So are you coming with me to Ballycastle this summer or not?" the Scotsman asked with a wide grin.

Atticus smiled and sipped at her coffee. "No," she replied, "no I don't think so." Stephen grinned and pulled his sister into a hug, causing her to spill coffee all over the floor. "Let go of me you great oaf!" Atticus shrieked as Stephen began to tousle her hair.

"Ah that's my girl," Stephen crowed. "_Finally_! So when's the wedding?"

Atticus pulled away and landed a punch on her brother's arm.

Time would heal their mother's betrayal, and so would love, because Salinger was right; love, even in the most devastating times, reminds us that we are all human, and that there's always happiness to be found. One simply has to turn on the light, as Dumbledore would say. Atticus grinned.

The news was going to spread like wildfire.

* * *

When they finally returned from winter break, Atticus and Seamus made no secret of their relationship, entering the front doors of the castle hand-in-hand. Whispers broke out, and a few of the guys slapped Seamus on the shoulder to congratulate him, while the girls clapped and cheered. _Finally_, the students said.

Lucy McCaffrey was waiting at the top of the grand staircase, talking with one of her girlfriends. When she saw Seamus and Atticus' hands linked, she practically exploded with excitement.

"I _knew_ there was something going on!"


End file.
